


Thawed Ice

by TheObsidianWarlock



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsidianWarlock/pseuds/TheObsidianWarlock
Summary: The summer prompt went: Something based on canon.Well. Okay then. Here we go:“What a pair we make,” Sylvanas said at last. “Castoffs of the Lich King, each of us building their kingdom, each of us searching for closure…” As Jaina met her gaze, Sylvanas leaned forward. “Tell me, Lady Proudmoore… what kind of closure do you seek here?”





	Thawed Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Writing time has been so hard to find. But I managed to bang this out, and the other two stories are close to ready to post! 
> 
> This is a riff on the Icecrown Citadel raid, playing off of the fact that Jaina and Sylvanas are there are the same time, in the same role. Who's to say what they might have accomplished together? Ah, well...
> 
> This is also dedicated to all the other amazing authors in this fandom, some of whom have visited this very scenario and created true art.

The howling blizzard chilled to the bone – undead flesh felt little pain, but it froze all the same. All around her the chattering of teeth and rattling of metal armor competed with the storm for volume, muted only somewhat by the endless snow. Concealed by the near-whiteout conditions, a gathering of paladins and death knights – the so-called Ashen Verdict – scuttled carefully past lookouts and through a side entrance to the dreaded Icecrown Citadel. Here and there, a flash of blue and red appeared, as Alliance and Horde champions answered the summons to battle.

Sylvanas scowled as she approached with her dark rangers, her long ears folding back. This was to be her chance for vengeance; did she also have to watch for knives in her back as well? The presence of Fordring’s lackeys already made this venture risky. But Alliance interference?

Unacceptable — but wait…

As Sylvanas closed in on the lookouts, she spied the source of the terribly convenient blizzard that hid them from the scourge patrols — and with it, the answers she sought:

Jaina Proudmoore.

So, she was not alone in seeking vengeance. Unless … the girl couldn’t be so foolish as to think that she could _rescue_ her lover, could she? 

Curiosity and a renewed fear of failure drove her towards the mage, the young woman’s pretty face reflecting Sylvanas’ burning crimson gaze as she neared. 

Except her eyes. Bright, incandescent blue eyes, alight with mana and power; points of azure amidst a sea of blood…

Once, Sylvanas would have scolded herself for staring – such an indignity was for the less refined. Death had done away with that, as it had many things. 

“Lady Windrunner.” Proudmoore inclined her head a touch, her voice conveying the strain of her casting. “I’m a touch busy at the moment.”

“Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas bowed slightly. “Since we have unexpectedly gathered together, we should coordinate. I would like a word with you.”

“Very well; I will find you inside.”

With that, the archmage returned to her casting, and Sylvanas moved to the entrance, her mind a whirl of possible tactics and scenarios.

~(0)~

Despite Jaina’s experiences to date – her training as an archmage and battles against undead and demons – the sight of the Banshee Queen stalking towards her rattled her senses. Those blood-red eyes, their glow reflecting across the dancing snowflakes, the confident, powerful stride, hips swaying just so…

Watching her walk away only accented her figure further…

What a fool she’d become. That poor woman had died fighting Arthas – fighting her former lover — and Jaina had the audacity to ogle her corpse. 

Sylvanas Windrunner was beautiful. Death had not taken that from her. Or perhaps, Arthas had deliberately… 

A well of emotion built in her chest, tightening her throat. She was likely correct with that thought; and it tore holes through her fragile hope for the man she once loved. 

But she had to try. If there was even the slightest chance, Jaina had to take it. If not… she felt obligated to discover how to end the Lich King. 

Sylvanas likely felt the same. For her, it would be vengeance. With any luck, they could work together, rather than against each other.

~(0)~

Lady Proudmoore scarcely gave notice to the dark rangers and forsaken around her as she approached. How fascinating; perhaps the archmage was simply aware of her power? Truly, there existed no answer to Proudmoore’s magics here – perhaps one or two of the champions might give her a fight. But if Jaina Proudmoore wanted Sylvanas dead, it would happen – along with many, many others.

The openness in the woman’s eyes told Sylvanas that she had nothing to fear. Perhaps in the trappings of court, Jaina could hide; she might politick and weave stories, and Sylvanas would believe her. But the battlefield was Sylvanas’ domain, and the mage’s intentions were all but written on her sleeve.

“I have fresh bread and wine, if you like,” Jaina said as she sat at Sylvanas’ war table. 

“Do you?” Sylvanas arched her long eyebrow, somewhat amused when Jaina glanced up at it. “I happen to have brought wine myself…” she fished at the satchel at her feet, producing a bottle. “A fine white, from the year 20… Lordaeron’s final vintage. Fitting, isn’t it?”

Proudmoore’s eyes stayed pinned upon the bottle. Enough reaction to have touched home; not enough to have unsettled her. Oh well. Sylvanas made to lower the bottle when Jaina waved her hand, producing two crystal goblets. Another moment, and the aroma of fresh bread filled her senses.

“That would be fine,” Proudmoore said, only the slightest hitch to her voice. Sylvanas poured the wine as Jaina broke the bread. A silence fell as they ate and drank. 

“What a pair we make,” Sylvanas said at last. “Castoffs of the Lich King, each of us building their kingdom, each of us searching for closure…” As Jaina met her gaze, Sylvanas leaned forward. “Tell me, Lady Proudmoore… what kind of closure do you seek here?”

“I need to know that Arthas – my Arthas – is gone. If he is, then I must discover how to destroy the Lich King.”

“And you believe he still exists?” Sylvanas asked, her anger spiking. “Does my existence not prove otherwise, my lady?”

“What is the point of saying I loved him, if I do not at least attempt—”

“And I am to be denied for the sake of your ‘love?’”

“You gave _everything,_” Jaina said. “You are a hero to the elves, and again to the remaining people of Lordaeron who call you Queen.”

And damn it all, she _felt_ those words. Proudmoore was dangerous if left to speak – but speak she did.

“You understand well the need of risk and sacrifice, even when hope seems lost. You would do anything for your people. How can you say I am not to do the same?”

“Arthas is not one of ‘your people.’”

“He is if he still exists.”

Rather than answer, Sylvanas bit into her bread, chewing as though murdering an enemy. Damn this woman and her traps of logic. 

“Lady Windrunner…” Proudmoore hesitated, sipping her wine. A calculated pause if ever Sylvanas heard one. 

“Forgive this rather personal question, but… You seem to have been raised from the dead with your looks and form largely intact.”

_Oh._ Oh, she could have fun with this.

“Why, Lady Proudmoore!” Sylvanas exclaimed in a mockingly coy tone. “How needlessly vague! I always imagined you could conjure forth the most elegant flattery. Would you not do so for me?”

Despite the cold, a faint pink worked its way up Jaina’s cheeks. Her eyes never wavered, however – if anything, her gaze grew bolder. “You are very beautiful,” the mage said softly. “I could weave my arts and adjust my own appearance again and again, and only hope to draw even to you.” 

_Well, now._

“I assure you,” Sylvanas purred, “you need do no such thing.”

Now blushing a full red, Jaina cleared her throat. “Thank you. But I have a worry. Clearly, you were raised as such. Did … did Arthas…?”

The sobering implication cut through the mood instantly. They were once again sitting at a rickety folding table in the middle of their enemy’s citadel, hastily organizing a desperate incursion. For an instant, Sylvanas lamented the loss – the bread she swallowed now felt dull and tasteless.

But She had discovered a weapon here. If she chose, she could galvanize Proudmoore against—

No. 

“No,” Sylvanas shook her head. “Nothing of the sort occurred.” Tapping her finger, she considered a moment. “Perhaps that might have been a possibility. Perhaps I was meant to entice the living into service. But no – I broke free before such a thing could occur.”

“Thank you,” Jaina said heavily, almost slumping in place, before straightening. “That — Thank you.”

“This still places us at odds,” Sylvanas said. “I desire vengeance.”

“If he is gone,” Jaina said, closing her eyes, “then you will have your chance. The Lich King will fall. If I find that he is trapped, we can free him, then the Lich King still falls.” Jaina’s eyes opened. “Will you give me that chance, Lady Windrunner?”

Perhaps it was the wine.

“Very well,” Sylvanas murmured.

It was definitely the wine.

“Within reason,” she warned; and the mage nodded, reaching for her glass with a smile.

The wine, and the bright young mage across the table from her, who approached without fear and carried freshly baked bread.

~(0)~

Sylvanas Windrunner deserved the title of ‘Ranger General.’

Jaina and her Alliance champions, as well as the gathered Ashen Verdict, naturally fell under the Banshee Queen’s command as they fought through the citadel. Jaina remained near Sylvanas, lending her magics where and when the elven general ordered: 

Shields; targeted strikes; elementals to bolster lines; short-range portals to relocate troops; direct teleports to pull the wounded back to the healers. Sylvanas commanded, and Jaina delivered.

They fell into a rhythm quickly. Sylvanas was well-versed in tactics that incorporated mages. Together, they destroyed the soul grinders in the Forge of Souls. Together, they rallied against the Scourgelord Tyrannus, felling his frost wyrm and ending the death knight’s existence. Jaina began to believe in their chances. They’d reach Arthas and end things – for good or for ill. 

Then Sindragosa appeared – the mightiest of the frost wyrms. 

“Jaina!” Sylvanas called – her only warning. Mustering her might, she teleported as many as she could away from the dragon’s deadly breath.

As the ice crystals drifted away, Jaina’s heart fell like lead to her feet, even as she called forth a blanketing illusion of ice and snow. 

She had failed them. 

The undead dragon swivelled its head left and right, searching for survivors. 

Sylvanas had called to her, certain of assistance, and Jaina had failed. Sylvanas stood beside her still, but the rest... a handful Horde and Alliance champions; a smattering of the paladins and death knights. Almost nothing was left of their expedition. 

Finally satisfied, the dragon flew off to search elsewhere. 

“We must press on,” Sylvanas urged from beside her.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“I did not expect you to save everyone,” Sylvanas said, her voice even and practical. “That we are alive at all is an amazing feat.”

Jaina nodded numbly, content to follow as Sylvanas led. All her courage now lay as frozen and motionless as the dozens of men and women they left behind.

~(0)~

“Take them!” She barked at the champions, slashing her sword towards the Lich King’s minions. “Leave the Lich King to us!”

Already, Arthas pressed the attack to Jaina, forcing her to shield. 

Good.

The shield held while Sylvanas unleashed a volley of explosive arrows, each one rocking the Lich King back a step.

“Arthas, please…”

“Arthas is gone, girl.” The Lich King’s deep voice echoed from the depths of his cursed helm.

“Jaina, to me!” Sylvanas cried as she drew breath. As Jaina teleported behind her, she unleashed her scream. The icy walls and floor cracked and separated. Every plate of armor on Arthas’ body flapped like cloth in the wind, and the man himself lost his footing and slid backwards on his rear from the force.

But still, he rose, Frostmourne in hand. He staggered under a combination volley of arcane power and ice lances, but despite the ferocity of Jaina’s assault, the Lich King approached step by step. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Jaina pleaded, even as she continued to bombard him.

“Kill him, Jaina!” Sylvanas shouted as she added her arrows to the assault. “Arthas is not there! Do not allow his body to walk about in service to the Legion!”

“You don’t understand anything,” the Lich King growled. “If you knew the true threat to Azeroth, you would sit back and let the Scourge work.”

“And watch the death of every nation? That will never happen!” Jaina reached for fire now – and again Arthas found himself on his back in the wake of the blast. 

Good. 

“If I wanted you dead,” he mocked as he rose again, “I could do that now. No force on Azeroth can stand against me. Yet another display of ignorance. We will finish what the Legion did not. All you are, pretty little Jaina, is an obstacle.”

With that, the glacial walls of the fortress animated against them, trapping them with wall after wall as Arthas fought his way closer.

Sylvanas cursed as the battle devolved into chaos. Their champions found them, but so did the scourge. Moment by moment, wall by infuriating wall, they fought to break out of the citadel. Every champion Arthas could reach was struck down. 

All this loss. Such a brutal waste. Her hopes for vengeance evaporated, replaced by a desperate bid to escape.

After such success … after reaching Frostmourne itself…! She’d listened to Jaina’s sentimental conversation with the spirit of Uther the Lightbringer. They lacked the strength to best Arthas this day, but they held the information necessary to defeat him, drawn from the very souls he held trapped in his blade. Others needed to know; they needed to escape this futile battle and flee the citadel. 

But the walls still came, and the scourge seemed endless.

Slowly, as their hopes to win free dwindled, Sylvanas altered her planning. They did not need to escape… _Jaina_ needed to escape. She had the ear of both the Alliance and the Horde. She would be believed; she could raise an army powerful enough to assail the Lich King and win.

Sylvanas Windrunner, undead former scourge, and current leader of more former scourge, could not.

“Blasted dead end…!” she cursed as they reached the outer parapets. 

“Prepare for our last stand!” she called. “Defend Lady Proudmoore! Jaina, the wards! You must break free of here! Others must know what we do!”

“I won’t leave you!” Jaina shouted back as she wasted her magics against Arthas. 

“GO!” Sylvanas shoved her roughly towards the edge. “We cannot win here! But we can buy you time!”

“I—”

Blue met red; their frantic gazes locked. Something unspoken and desperate passed between them. 

Jaina turned her attention to the citadel wards. 

Good.

Sylvanas launched herself toward the Lich King, orders already on her lips—

And salvation arrived. 

Alliance and Horde airships crested the ridge, canons roaring. The champions scattered as Arthas fell back, buried under the very walls he’d used against them.

Then the champions clambered aboard the airships. Then Jaina broke through the wards, a long-distance portal already forming.

“Sylvanas—”

“Go.”

And she did.

The last one on the parapet, Sylvanas stared at the empty space where Jaina had stood, the last wisps of magic fading into the ether. Slowly, she turned and boarded the airship.

~(0)~

Dalaran felt so strange to visit. Once upon a time it was a proper city on the ground, and she was an archmage’s apprentice…

With a sigh, Jaina stepped back from the window. Those days were gone.

The hotel suite was beautiful – her usual rooms when visiting for trade talks. She glanced at the clock a moment, before exhaling forcefully and throwing herself on to the couch, willing her muscles to relax. 

She should be here. Where…?

Energies tugged gently at her senses, drawing her attention to the door and the growing pool of shadows gathering from beneath it. The shadows slowly curled upwards, solidifying into a familiar elven form. 

“I apologize,” Sylvanas said as she stepped forward. “I chose to dodge around the main streets.” 

“I’m glad you came,” Jaina said. Her voice hitched with relief, but the surprised smile on the banshee’s face was worth the indignity.

“I see that you’ve prepared a feast,” Sylvanas quipped as she reached Jaina. “It would be a shame to waste it. Shall we…?”

Jaina took Sylvanas’ proffered hand but tugged against it. “Wait,” she said. “Would you…?”

Sylvanas allowed Jaina to pull her to sit beside her. For just a moment, they watched each other, searching for something. An invitation, perhaps? 

A hand upon a hand. Upon a pauldron. Curling around and behind. A brief shuffling as each adjusted their seating. Now both arms wrapped fully around, a warm welcome paired with desperate need.

The food cooled. The clock chimed the hour. 

“You’ll need to warm our dinner,” Sylvanas murmured beside Jaina’s ear. Jaina simply hummed. Neither moved their arms. 

An hour later, nature’s call drove Jaina to break their embrace. Dinner was shared with smiles and pleasant conversation. 

And even a touch of trade talk, befitting the rulers of fledgeling nations.

**Author's Note:**

> That hour-long hug is a fair recreation of my first outing with my late wife. We'd kind of circled around each other all evening, and at the end we sort of pulled at each other a bit and ended up in this ginormous hug that lasted forever and a day. We'd really needed each other at the time (we both found out later as we opened up), and it was just a fantastic, if somewhat awkward moment for the both of us.
> 
> I'm happy to have been able to recreate it for you here.
> 
> Please leave your kudos and comments! I love them all!
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> ~OW


End file.
